Aching Numbness
by EmeraldEuphoria
Summary: Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who whine, complain and question everything that happens. In fact, I'm pretty level headed, pretty logical. I know that this "love" that everyone talks about isn't real. Which is why I never really tried looking very hard for it. Or at all actually.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I have _no idea_ what I'm doing here. This is Quinn-centric. I guess I just wanted to try writing for her and **_sort of_** for Faberry.

One sided Faberry, with a tiny, little delicious side of Brittana. It's not angst, I don't think... You know what? Just tell me what you think :P

* * *

Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who whine, complain and question everything that happens. In fact, I'm pretty level headed, pretty logical. I know that this "love" that everyone talks about isn't real. Which is why I never really tried looking very hard for it. Or at all actually.

I mean, there was Finn; he was beneficial for my popularity at school. Nothing more, nothing less. He wasn't what you'd call my "type". At all.

And then Puck. With Puck, it was all beyond confusing; at first I thought I was in love with him because he was my _baby's dad_. Then I thought I was in love with him_ because_ he was my baby's dad, which didn't really seem okay to me. Then, for some pathological need to be loved and needed and cared for, I somehow convinced myself that he was what was right. Yeah, I'm not sure if that's actually logical thinking.

Then Sam, which don't get me started on - He was sweet, nice, kind, naive, so damn _good_ and I didn't want good. I didn't deserve good. So, I screwed everything up. Like I always seem to do.

Again, I must cement the fact that I'm not trying to complain about my sad little life, because I'm not; I just don't understand why these things happen to me.

I've always put God first, and I don't ever regret that but - Sophomore year, I lost my virginity because I was feeling unwanted and fat, and then I got pregnant, kicked off the Cheerios, somehow dragged two guys into the baby daddy drama (the fake daddy sang a song about me carrying "his" baby in front of my parents, and the real one demanded, begged and pleaded that I keep the baby and stay with the Puckerman's, which is the stupidest thing I've ever heard; we're kids, playing house is not something we should be doing, then he slept around and called me fat), got kicked out of my house, had to waddle around pretending that I wasn't holding back tears, that I was unaffected by the looks and whispers behind my back. And when I finally gave birth, after my mom wanted me back, I had to give my baby away. I don't know why it felt so hard; I mean, I did want this. Right?

Then, junior year, I got stuck in this seemingly never ending story with three guys that I couldn't make my mind up to choose from, as wrong as it may sound. I cheated. Multiple times. When I was with Finn, or Sam or Puck, I just never felt complete, it never felt right. So, I messed around.

Senior year, I came back with pink hair, torn clothes and a real need for a shower. It's the most cliché thing that's ever happened to me; "finally blowing up". It's laughable, stupid, idiotic and was bound to happen from day one really; I do have an obvious need for attention, it's sickening. Of course once I got my life sort of (on the outside) on track; I got into Yale (God knows how), Rachel says she's getting married. Well, she asked what I thought on the matter of whether she should or shouldn't say yes. To Finn of all people.

It felt weird. I don't know why. I didn't recognize the feeling at first; I honestly thought it was just disdain at the fact that they were actually doing this, at seventeen. Then I thought it was because Rachel and I had become sort of friends, and I didn't want to see her ruin her life by eventually throwing away her dreams. But neither of those made sense, not to me anyway.

Of course, she goes ahead and says yes._ Idiot_. And I couldn't be a normal person, no, I had to get hit by a truck. I couldn't walk for a really long time. And I've never actually admitted it to anyone, but after a week, the tough girl act got a little bit weaker; _what if I could never walk?_ I spent more than a few nights crying myself to sleep.

I always put God and my faith first, so why was I getting the short stick in life? I made mistakes, sure, but everybody makes mistakes. It's part of being human.

See, I'm not going to complain, but I'm only a kid, and a kid can only take so much. I didn't have anybody; my parents wanted nothing to do with me, I had no real friends (Maybe Santana, but she had her own crap to deal with), I had no one. What was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to turn to? I was a kid, _goddamn it!_ Why didn't anyone care?

I guess it was a culmination of all those things that just broke me. It made me so insecure, so self-conscious, so disgustingly weak that it made me sick. I didn't show it to anyone, but it was there, just barely below the surface.

Moving to the Yale dormitories was supposed to make everything better. I was going to leave my shit life behind. I was going to start new.

But of course, luck just isn't on Lucy Quinn Fabray's side. Ever. Because apparently Rachel decided that she was going to actually use those metro passes I gave her. She visited regularly. I have no idea why I got so nervous, anxious,_ excited_ whenever I was waiting for her; I always just waved it off as me wanting to leave my old life behind, and Rachel was significantly _old life_.

It doesn't matter, because she still came. And I still got overly hyper waiting for her.

We would talk about random things while she's here; Finn, school, Kurt and Blaine, Brittany and Santana, Finn, how Brittany proposed to Santana and how Santana will die denying that she broke down in tears as she said yes, Finn, school, and Finn. It made me go near damn crazy, for one reason or another.

Sophomore year of college, during Spring Break, Brittany and Santana visited. They stayed with me and, for the whole week they were here, they would constantly throw little knowing glances at each other whenever Rachel would come up in a conversation. At first I thought it was their "thing", you know. Then it was just annoying; they obviously had something to say. But when I asked Santana, she glanced at Brittany who barely shook her head, pretending to read the two week old newspaper, and said in the softest voice Santana'd ever used, "Please be careful, Quinn," and then Brittany changed the subject.

I didn't know what she'd meant, at the time.

Junior year, I woke up on a Sunday to pounding on my door. And when I opened it, Rachel was standing there, smiling so big, and waving her hand in front of my face. It took me a few minutes to notice the engagement ring on her finger, and then a few more to realize that the feeling in the pit of my stomach was not something I should be feeling, so I pulled her in for a hug instead of letting her see my crumpled face.

She wanted me to be her maid of honor, and I couldn't very well say no, now could I?

The second Rachel was asleep in my bed (how damn funny), I called Santana and told her everything.

The same soft voice I heard the year before came back, "Baby girl, we're going to be right there with you," I really loved that Santana just knew me. But the fact that she knew I wasn't going to do anything made everything a little worse; because I was going to let the girl I'd fallen for walk down the aisle to a guy who does not deserve her. It really sucked sometimes, being me.

I repeat for the fourth time, I'm not here to complain, but could one good thing ever happen to me? Ever? Apparently not.

(I was actually wishing for a truck to hit me on my way to the church...)

I was standing right next to Rachel as she and Finn spoke their vows, and I didn't feel tears well in my eyes, or jealousy or hurt, I just felt the usual aching numbness that was always there. It was both comforting and suffocating.

Life was never kind to me, was I really expecting it to change all of a sudden? No.

Nobody ever really wanted me for me, would that magically change? No.

Love was foreign. Love was not real. The only people in my life, the only people I'd ever met and probably will ever meet who make me think that maybe this mythical feeling called "love" could exist, are Santana and Brittany. But then I just think that they'd known each other for a really long time before they got together, maybe they're just "compatible". Maybe God intended for them to get together. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

But do I believe in love? No.

And, if love was a real thing, do I think I would ever get it, that anyone would ever love me? No.

So, I watched Rachel and Finn kiss and I smiled appropriately, because at least she believed in love, even if I didn't, and if anything, she should be happy.

* * *

So? I'm actually interested in writing Character-Centric fics. I was going to write for Santana, but I knew that I wanted this to end this way; with one getting married, and I just couldn't do that to my babies! Anyway, this wasn't actually angst, was it? I don't know...

What do you think? What should I work on? Something you didn't like about this? Another you actually liked? Do you have any Faberrittana prompts from me? I'm kinda interested in Faberry. I never really shipped it, but Tumblr makes you ship anything, _really_, so the little place I have for Faberry in my heart is blamed on Tumblr :P

Faberry, IMO, are a couple that I would** love** to see on Glee, but I just don't feel like reading fics for. I wouldn't really mind (actually I'd really like it) if it was a Brittana fic with Faberry on the side.

Also, how cool are the ship names in the Glee fandom? Brittana, Faberry, Fierce, Quinntana, Pieberry, Puckleberry, even the ones I don't ship or hate have awesome names, like St. Berry (I can't bring myself to write Finchel, I already hate myself for making them end up together in this...) Except Bartie; Bartie sucks -_-

**_OH! BTW, If you're interested in knowing, I see Rachel and Finn separating in exactly eighteen months, then two months after that, they'll get divorced. Then, two years later, Quinn will be silently sobbing in her room which Rachie Pooh hears, and BAM! Faberry _****_is on, bitches! But that's just me... :P_**

All mistakes are mine!

_Tell me what you thought!_

**CHEERS!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: NOT MINE.**

* * *

It's been exactly eighteen months since Rachel and Finn got married. It's been eighteen months since I gave up on the idea that I might actually find someone for me.

I still don't believe in love. I still cry myself to sleep more times than I care to admit. I still feel like punching something whenever Rachel talks about Finn – which is a lot. The girl sure can talk.

The thing is, two months ago, Rachel's visits started coming less and less. It was bittersweet; I was really happy to finally have some peace of mind, or as much as I could, and I was happy to have to listen to all this talk about Finn less, but at the same time I was sad; because was I losing her? Did she not want to see me anymore?

Trust me, I realize how pathetic I sound right now, but my weekends with her are the highlights of my life at the moment, and I could not care less how silly I sound.

All this crap is the reason I'm currently in some seedy bar, drinking myself to a stupor.

I motion for the bartender to refill my glass and he smiles a little too big for my liking. Probably thinks he stands a chance. No way, buddy, I play for the rainbow team…

God, since when is my life so miserable. I really am trying to figure out where I went wrong. Was it the teen, out of wedlock pregnancy? The boys? The cheating? The pink hair? The fall down the lesbianism road? Or was it even before that? Because, as hard as I try, and even though I can't pinpoint the exact moment, I was too far gone way before that.

Which just makes me wonder, what kind of shit did a 12 year old, or younger, kid do to deserve to lead an unhappy, sad, pathetic, empty existence?

Maybe this is all a test of my faith. And if it is, am I failing by getting wasted?

Great, my phone is buzzing…

Crap, it's Rachel.

"Hi, Rachel, what can I do for you?" maybe there was a hint of sarcasm there, but Rachel was never any good at detecting it so…

A sigh, "Quinn, I know this is incredibly rude and last minute, but I'm actually on my way to you," a pause. Wait, what? "And I was wondering if it would be okay for me to stay over at yours for a while? Just for the weekend, please?"

Oh… "Um, yeah, sure, Rach. You can stay as long as you want," what? This is not okay. Oh, god.

I met Rachel back at my apartment, and after thirty minutes of silence (which was so weird; Rachel is never silent) she told me that her and Finn were separating.

I acted the appropriate way of a best friend and I consoled her, even though I was extremely elated at the news.

And yeah, maybe Rachel was spending every single weekend at my place, maybe I found that a little weird, maybe I knew she and Finn were not so great, but all that did not prepare me for Rachel's blank look when I got home from my Friday morning jog. Nor did it prepare me for her calm explanation of why she and Finn were getting a divorce (apparently, they'd gotten married too quickly and teenage dreams and first loves don't make a very good marriage). Nor did it prepare me for the little, sad smile she got when I sat down and awkwardly said, "I wanna hug you, but I'm all sweaty…" and the response of, "Quinn, we've seen worse of each other," and the implication behind that statement (she hugged me in spite of my sweatiness).

* * *

Well, it's been two years since all of that, and lo and behold, I'm still not happy.

I saw Santana and Brittany last week and I felt like crying when Brittany had exclaimed that they were pregnant, then she and Santana proceeded to fully eye sex each other. I felt like crying because I'd convinced myself that happiness and love didn't exist and seeing those two made me feel like crap, like a fool for even attempting to pretend, to lie to myself. I just couldn't take it anymore.

Today's Saturday and I spent the whole day shopping with Rachel.

During, I learnt that that dull ache that always made itself known when the little brunette was around could be ignored with enough practice. I learnt that I had no chance in hell with her. I learnt that I was going to be lonely forever. I learnt that those movies I always hated, the ones about these people that were so sad and pathetic, and the whole movie made you feel kinda depressed, the ones where there's no real beginning or ending, just a two hour movie about these people's lives, those movies were my life. And that thought alone made me wanna die.

(I'm not suicidal yet, calm yourselves. If I even thought about it, Santana would probably kill me or something. Brittany would even help. Rachel would hit them upside the head for trying to hurt me, and then she'd spend two hours lecturing me on the repercussions of my actions.)

I'm surrounded by all these wonderful people, yet I can't make myself be happy.

Well, I cannot be blamed for currently lying in my bed, crying my eyes out.

I find my life so freakin' hilarious; always crying, and feeling lonely, and having the girl of my dreams literally living with me and I can't do anything because I don't think anything will ever happen between us. So. Freakin'. Hilarious.

I stopped breathing when I felt my bed dip – was that even a real thing?

"Quinn…?" Rachel's soft voice reached my ears. "Are you okay?"

I cleared my throat – or tried to anyway, "Yeah, Rach… I'm fucking peachy." Maybe she didn't deserve to be snapped at, but excuse me; I'm a little out of it at the moment.

I heard a huff, "Of course you're not okay; you're crying!"

Not being able to see her got pretty tiring, so I rolled over onto my other side, facing her, "I'm sorry… I'm just not so great right now, Rae."

She nodded and smiled sadly, "The last few months… you've been going to your room a lot, and I'd hear you cry and I wouldn't know what to do…" she bit her lip (fuck, that's distracting) and hesitated, "So, I called Santana and she told me not to do anything." She sighed and started rubbing her hand up and down my forearm, "And I listened to her for as long as I could, but Quinn, I couldn't anymore…"

Wow. If only she'd confess her undying love for me…

"Quinn, please tell me what's wrong."

A long, tired, frustrated sigh escapes me; what am I supposed to tell her?

I decide on being vague, that should work.

"I'm not happy, Rach, like at all," I begin, "And sometimes I think you get it, but it turns out to all be in my head…"

It's true; there were so many times where Rachel caught me staring at her and she'd blush and get this look; this I-can-practically-read-your-mind look, that would make me think that she knew… but then she'd smile and ask me what I wanted to do for the day. It's frustrating.

"What are you talking about, Quinn?" _There_! There's that look again! I could swear that she knows how I feel, "I don't think I understand…"

Okay, call me crazy – and I might as well be, but there is this twinkle in her eyes that should not be there when you're comforting a friend; it almost looked like a challenge. But why? A challenge of what?

So, let's be frank, I've already messed up too many times to count and I'm alive and well (although my current state isn't exactly reassuring) and well… how bad could it be?

"Okay." I slowly sat up, she wanted a challenge (I think) and challenge she'll get. "You wanna know why I've been crying so much lately?" I waited for her nod, "I hate seeing you go out with all these guys. I hate hearing about you kissing them or," a shudder goes through me at my next words, "Or, worse, you _sleeping_ with them." There goes that twinkle again. "Just like I hated when you were with Finn…"

She licked her lips, "I… what do you mean?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes because _as if_; of course she knew what I meant. "Let me put it in words that you'll understand. If a tear fell from my eyes every time I wished you were with me, I would have a puddle of dead wishes lying at my feet."

I rolled my eyes again because of course Rachel would tear up at that.

"Oh, Quinn." She breathed.

Oh. Wow. Rachel's lips are awfully soft. I never, ever dreamed that Rachel and I would be kissing – sober.

It took a second for my brain to catch up and, _oh my god_, Rachel and I are kissing! I've been waiting for this for years now.

Rachel kisses like she does everything else; passionately. I seriously doubt she could do anything less that perfectly. She tastes like the strawberry cheesecake we had for desert after dinner, and something completely Rachel.

She pulled back to whisper, "By the way, I'm in love with you."

And for the first time, in a really long time, that aching numbness inside of me lessened.

* * *

Look, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who whine, complain and question everything that happens. In fact, I'm pretty level headed, pretty logical. I know that this "love" that everyone talks about isn't real. Which is why I never really tried looking very hard for it. Or at all actually. But, love found me and, as much as I don't want to admit to being wrong; love is very much real. And now I realize that although it's real, not many people are blessed with it, so I'm beyond ecstatic to be one of the few that actually manage to.

* * *

**A/N: SO? It's _actually_ Faberry now :P**

**Again, credit to Love4uQuotes on Twitter for a quote that I used here!**

**All mistakes are mine!**

**Tell me what you though, what you liked and didn't like, and all that jazz!**

**Cheers.**


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